memories

Oh, That Happened

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I had a chunk of memory fall out of the sky this afternoon and smack me in the back of the neck – which was already feeling stressed with my brain being in a weird space as it was. The chunk of memory was of being in hospital when I was first diagnosed with diabetes – or rather it was from a swathe of time early in the weekend that I just have not been able to reliably recall or reconstruct since all the excitement hit. This may be a bit graphic for medical type stuff, so if that upsets you please miss the next paragraph as it makes me squirm thinking about it. The chunk of memory seems to have been dislodged by reading an article today about a DJ who ended up in hospital with necrotising fasciitis.

I remember the fever and flu-like symptoms and my legs ballooning and turning red – I vaguely remember friends rallying round late night while waiting for an emergency appointment in the morning – I think? I don’t remember much beyond snatches of conversation, a blink of an eye and talking with a GP, then being sent straight to A&E. I do remember having at least one set of drips in – and my parents were there, and my being very concerned that something was even more wrong than the doctors knew. I remember that my legs were bound and wrapped in bandages, and yet as soon as I put my foot on the ground I was leaving wet dark yellow viscous residues on the floor in the shape of my feet – and I’m pretty sure the only reason I wasn’t shrieking was whatever painkillers were already in me. There was a sweet smell of rot – and I remember grabbing my dad as he was the nearest and saying – “All I can smell is rot, and I’m pretty sure its me.” And that’s the last I remember – at least until I opened my eyes with two surgeons standing over me and telling me they’d got my kidneys and liver working again, and did I know I had diabetes.

Sixteen years later, I still have very visibly dark scarring on my legs. I don’t know the details of what they had to do, but apparently they did it on the ward because there wasn’t any time left. We only really found out about what particular bug had decided to complicate the number of things that had all decided to go wrong at once by reading the charts and asking pointed questions. Apparently its the type of bacteria that lives for years in the body waiting for an opportunity to wreak havoc and could have been with me since my many bouts of tonsillitis as a child. No one knows, and frankly its not worth tracing back to find out.

My brain being what it is, I can feel and smell it all over again – even as a memory – as well as echoes of the pain, though that could just be the aches of being fifty years old joining in to spread the love. As I look down at my legs, it makes me ever more grateful both for the extra years I’ve had because of the swift actions of doctors, but also for the ongoing care of the NHS – even if it does sometimes feel like gentle bullying for my own good to keep me on the straight and narrow.

My brain has obviously decided that I can cope with this memory now – and perhaps its a timely reminder to not take anything for granted. I’m pretty sure my loved ones will say there’s little chance of my doing that – and that alone is something I’m grateful for.

Hot Memories

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So, here in the UK we’re having a heatwave with temperatures pushing 30C as I write and warnings of 40 tomorrow. As I’m diabetic I’m keeping an extra eye on myself and keeping hydrated and as in the shade as I can so I don’t burn my shaved head and boil my own brain. Perhaps I’m not particularly exercised at the moment though because of my relative memories of visiting Florida a few years back during one of their heatwaves. You could tell it was hot because even the native Floridians were commenting on it and I lost track of the number of overworked air conditioning units I saw leaking everywhere.

Thinking more close to home however, I was reminded today that the last time we had weather like this was in the summer of 1976 – which for me remains the high bar of the perfect summer (at least judged through the eyes of four year old me) – the days were long, we ran around in very little. We had a paddling pool pretty much permanently up or being refilled. The garden paving slabs were too hot to walk barefoot on – but of course being me I made a game of how long I could run on them before either hopping into shadow or onto the dry crinkled grass beside it. I don’t remember burning my feet but I’m sure my parents despaired.

We had a dog – a dalmation – who very sensibly stayed indoors, or stretched out in the shade with a expression of “touch me and die”. He was a vicious brute, but he was our vicious brute, and he would greatly enjoy accompanying dad into the church to lie on the cool flagstones inside and keep him company.

Thinking about it, I’m pretty sure I’m mixing up memories of being older in a similar hot summer a few years later while living at a different vicarage but the basics remain the same. I can’t remember very much from my childhood – but hot summers definitely made their mark.

Is there a point to this? Not really, just sharing reminiscences born of the heat and how this weekend is largely spent doing very little, or appreciating the shade as I do things like take the recycling out or do battle in tesco to take advantage of their air conditioning. At least with no children in the house I can enjoy walking round naked in the flat while the water from my most recent cool shower evaporates. Now there’s an image…

Adventures Old and New

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We had a great time yesterday at the Preview event at Thorpe Park – a pre-season day exclusive for annual pass holders and staff and their families. In previous years before the plague times we were the former and dropped in with the Charleesi. This year it was as guests of boy s.

The sun was out, the cub unsure of what he might like, and the after effects of Storm Eunice were still evident in some closed attractions. We had fun. I’m feeling a bit battered and bruised, and it took a while for my brain to remember how to process the signals from my inner ears, but I’m so glad I tried some new things.

Bright skies are back

Even remembering I should have been at counselling just as dessert arrived at our restaurant meal afterwards didn’t put too much of a dampener on things.

And then today we joined a gym – biting the bullet to manage various health conditions. The last time I was a member of a David Lloyd gym I was deep in depression and generally all over the place. My brain has therefore wasted no time in trying to recall and castigate me over non issues from that time period. No surprise there.

I am reminding myself instead that my last gym membership did me a lot of good and I did actually enjoy it.

Time for new memories.

Rambling Brain

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I’ve done a couple of hours driving here and there the last few days, just helping ferry a couple of people around or doing shopping trips, and with it has come another round of my brain deciding that focusing on the road and tapping my fingers along to various songs wasn’t enough and that to keep itself from getting bored it would take me on a trip down memory lane – mostly as I zipped up and down the A3.

Of course, being my brain, it felt that the best use of this time wouldn’t be to reminisce on family holidays, or small achievements. It wouldn’t even touch on memorable journeys. No, my brain decided to let the weasels pick out a broad selection of cringe-worthy and relationship-sabotaging events from my mid teens to early twenties. Why? Possibly because I’ve been having a good time recently despite being tired and depression likes to keep things not just grounded but positively subterranean.

So passing certain junctions recalled conversations containing oversharing, while others sparked sort-of-pleasant memories that then bounced on to bemused introspection. One memory for example was of being at the Surrey County Fair with my girlfriend at the time and her family. We had VIP passes so had entry to a large food tent for lunch, which included arrays of whole cooked salmon and assorted side dishes and finger foods. Seeing the general melee of people and wondering where the queue started, I was told “Oh don’t worry about manners, get in there and tuck in. Only the middle class worry about manners – the rich and the poor don’t bother or don’t have time.” This would have been the late eighties, so make of that what you will. Funny how I’ve forgotten that for so long and a simple sign for Guildford brought it back.

That then of course led to more unspooling memories, both good and bad from around that time, and how badly I handled the aftermath of that relationship ending. I remind myself that I was little more than a boy, with some trauma in the background, and had a lot of growing up and healing to do. This isn’t the easiest to do all at once, so it took me a few years and along the way garnered enough moments to make me cringe for the best part of an hour while the show progressed in my mind’s eye.

As Lady M reminds me – I was young, I did stupid shit, the world hasn’t ended, and nobody was harmed along the way beyond some embarrassment or hurt feelings. My counsellor has pointed out on similar past occasions that the brain hides a lot of our memories until such time as we feel safe enough to begin to process them properly. Sometimes all kinds of things get caught up in the confusion along with the actual trauma events and suppressed at the same time so its not that unusual for the most random things to pop up all fresh and ready for inspection as other things heal.

My personal take is that my depression is getting desperate if it thinks that the merely embarrassing will get the black dog barking – especially when it starts looking at relationships given my wayward and idiosyncratic present. Perhaps its just my healthier brain pointing out that the lessons I’ve learned along the way would have served me well in the various memories dredged up and that therefore they were worth learning.

See? I can do positive!

Happy Memory

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I was having a brief online chat with my daughter this evening, where she was recounting a work drama with her usual dry wit – and she mentioned how her hope for the summer is to be able to drag her boyfriend to Thorpe Park.

Long-time readers and family friends will of course recall our many visits there over the years, supported by Merlin Passes and a love of being flung around complex rollercoasters. She then ruminate that now she’s earning full-time she has every intention of finishing the day loaded down with merchandise.

Pretty much simultaneously we then opined that a return to Alton Towers should happen again, and with that came memories of our staying there for the weekend of her 16th birthday – which still ranks as one of our favourite memories ever

We hadn’t told her we were going there, and it was late on a Friday when we got there, and I’ll never forget the look on her face as we arrived, or when we got to our room to find a cake and a Teddy bear waiting for her.

It was me, Lady M, and the Charleesi, staying on-site and just making the absolute most of absolutely everything. From food to early access on each day I think we hit nearly every ride several times and had glorious sunshine the whole weekend.

Even just writing these words has put a smile on my face – a wonderful antidote to the discomfort of the last 24 hours or so

Unexpected Flashback

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I’m still not quite sure where it came from. I think it was partly Lady M complaining of sore skin as I hugged her earlier. It sparked a memory of what I’ve long held as the missing weekend where I was diagnosed with diabetes.

Some context here for those who haven’t heard the bare bones: we’re not sure how long I was diabetic before I was diagnosed as I was largely asymptomatic beyond tiring easily, but I put that down as much to being very overweight and unfit. I developed a rash on my legs, and increasing swelling and redness and started being very unwell, but was stupid and didn’t go to the doctor. My wife at the time eventually worked out something bad was going on and got me in front of medical professionals

They promptly admitted me to hospital and when I came to I was told they’d got my kidneys and liver working again, had been at most a couple of hours from death, and did I know I was diabetic?

Which was quite a lot to take on at once. Especially as I promptly picked up necrotising fascitis in my legs while on the ward and lost more time as my system threw up its hands in disgust.

So the flashback was a very clear memory of putting my bare foot on the ward floor and leaving a pus footprint, and of telling my father that I could smell something rotting, and I was sure it was me. And the memory of the physical pains, and the smell, just were there.

And then I remembered later, post various surgeries when I was strong enough to stand up and go shower, where layers of skin fell off my legs like sheets of paper. Utterly painless, and fascinating, and I clogged the drain.

I think this is meant to be a sign of my brain feeling strong enough to start processing what it’s been suppressing. How wonderful. Yay?

So Many Photos

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We may have gone a bit mad on photos while we were away at Disney – and even trying to curate a small number for a slideshow here has been a challenge – so I may do some themed ones along the way.

We invested in a Photopass too, so that the various photographers around the parks, as well as the character meets and rides could all be easily collated and downloaded at our leisure.

So on top of the hundreds of photos taken between us there was another treasure trove of memories to recover – which include some truly amazing facial expressions as we were caught off guard. Disney magic covers a range of emotions, and these photos illustrate it well.

The two biggest extremes both come from Lady M. The first was in a character encounter with Kylo Ren – and she was rendered literally speechless. She looked terrified as we were ushered by Imperial operatives into his presence, and she was abruptly interrogated by the tall dark hooded character.

She said later that it had been unnerving, even knowing it was an actor, to come face to face with the mask, abrupt body language and tone of voice. As an evocation of the character it worked amazingly, and has left a lasting impression she gladly talks about – a true emotional thrill ride if you like.

The second came when we dined at Be Our Guest in the Magic Kingdom one evening. During the day, it is Belle who holds court there, but the evenings belong to the Master (Beast) – and so once we had eaten our main course, Lady M went to his study to meet him.

Now, Lady M’s maiden name was Potts, so the film and characters have a special resonance for her as they recall her mother. As she told the Master this, there was a jolt of surprise. He looked to the ex-Lady M for confirmation, and then spread his arms wide to gather her in an expansive hug.

With so much floating around – the ambience, music, location, thoughts of her mum – Lady M cried, and the Beast held her, and wouldn’t let her go until she was recovered. It was totally off-script, and apparently confused the helpers who hadn’t heard the exchange – but this too has been a lasting memory that she will always cherish.

Disney magic, caught on camera.

Playfulness

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I was walking to get the bus this morning when I saw a cluster of young boys darting around a parked car. My first instinct was one of suspicion, but there didn’t seem to be any of the scowling furtiveness that I’ve encountered with mischievous or downright villainous kids recently.

They were happy in their game, faces bright and cheerful, and then they all got into the car and I heard them chattering away as I passed.

It reminded me of how my grandparents’ car was a centre of play and shared adventure when they came to visit. For many years we didn’t have a car ourselves: too expensive on my father’s wages as an Anglican priest. Our grandparents’ vehicle therefore was a totem of travel and adventure, and we would clamour to be allowed to go play in it while the grown-ups did… whatever it was grown-ups did.

That car was a spaceship, or an escape vehicle on the run from bad guys, or any number of excuses to change seats, flip switches, and listen to the radio for short periods of time so we didn’t run the battery down.

Funny how simple sights bring it all back.

The Big Party

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image

Lady M’s Saturday party was a huge success, thanks to the kindness and dedication of several people, and a willingness to really go for it on the costume side of things. For example, the Charleesi composed a Spotify playlist that the landlord agreed to play through his PA system. Between this list and a later one used by the pub, there was a huge amount of singing. Some of this has made its way onto social media.

Two of our guests (Lord and Lady H) arranged for a birthday cake and cupcakes to be made, based on Robin Hobb’s Farseer trilogy. The gasp from Lady M when we revealed them made all the subterfuge worth it. Lady P helped source decorations and stepped in to provide last minute transport for a couple of guests who might otherwise not have made it. My younger brother, Lord Demonic, entertained and kept the spirits and wine and beer flowing, and the pub served up a great buffet that both fed the troops and didn’t bankrupt me!

As for the costumes, well pretty much everyone threw themselves into the fray. We had an R2D2 and C3P0 couple, The Doctor, Merida, Ursula, Caitlin Snow (from The Flash), Arthur Dent (complete with towel), Jane Bond and her glamorous toyboy, Captain Jack Sparrow, a gangster, a couple of Bollywood stars, Clark Kent, and a survivor of the zombie apocalypse with more than a little bit of red on him.

The landlord and bar staff took it very much in their stride. Many of the regulars were extremely bemused. We all had a great time, and then went our separate ways.

It probably comes as no surprise that Sunday was very, very quiet…